


I Do

by felineranger



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Crossdressing, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lister and Cat find a fun way to pass an afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do

                Lister followed Cat down the huge empty corridors of Red Dwarf’s shopping mall, swigging despondently from one of the lager cans he’d stashed around his person for this trip. Cat’s shopping sprees were always long and dull, but Lister also found the deserted mall eerie and depressing. He had to be phenomenally bored and at least a little drunk to agree to these outings.

                Cat slid and spun ahead of him, pushing a trolley full of clothes. He skidded to a halt in front of a large window displaying two mannequins, one in a tux, one in a frilly wedding dress. “Hey! I haven’t looked in here yet!” He quickly slunk inside. Lister stared at the mannequins and huffed miserably. He’d always assumed if he ever went into one of these places it would be because he was getting married, not because he was so desperate for company and entertainment that he was helping his mutant cat find cool new suits. He dragged himself inside.

                Cat was already sniffing through the racks, holding jackets and trousers up with a critical eye and tossing the odd one into the trolley, along with waistcoats, silk hankies and ties. Lister flopped onto a mock leather couch and watched him, cracking open another can. This could take a while.

                Once Cat had finally evaluated seemingly every item in the menswear section some time later, Lister assumed they were done. “Can we go now?”

“Not yet!” Cat protested, shimmying across the aisle to the women’s section, “I haven’t investigated these!”

“You don’t want those,” Lister told him impatiently, “They’re all dresses.”

“So?” Cat stroked a long silk gown approvingly.

“They’re for ladies.”

“Says who?”

                Lister considered this. Did it really matter if it kept Cat happy for a while? Did it really make the situation significantly weirder than it already was? “Never mind,” he sighed, opening yet another can. “You investigate the dresses, man. You investigate whatever you like.”

 

                Up in the drive room, Rimmer threw down his pen in frustration. “Holly!” he barked. A blond head appeared on the screen above him and regarded him with barely contained irritation, “What now?”

“You’ve given me the wrong textbooks. I asked for foundation level and these are clearly advanced.”

“They’re the right textbooks, Arn. It even says it on the front. Foundation Level Astronavigation. In big letters.”

“Well, they must be the advanced foundation level. I need the _basic_ foundation level.”

“There’s no such thing as advanced foundation level. It’s either foundation level or it’s not.”

“Fine. What’s the next level down from foundation then?”

“There isn’t one.”

“There must be something. Isn’t there an ‘Astronavigation for Dummies’ kind of thing?”

“No, Arn, there’s not. For a very good reason.”

                Rimmer glared at her, “I must be tired. I’ll look at these again tomorrow. Where’s Lister?”

“He’s helping Cat do some shopping.”

“What does that gimboid know about style?”

“According to my monitors,” Holly replied enigmatically, “More than you might think.”

 

                Now with several cans of lager down him, Lister found he was actually starting to enjoy this. It certainly made a change from Durex Volleyball. Cat pulled back the dressing room curtain with a flourish and posed in his champagne satin gown. “I like this one!” he proclaimed with a broad grin, “It’s got style, drama, and the label says it has a fishtail skirt!”

“Fishtail is just the style, Cat. It doesn’t have actual fishtails sewn into the lining.”

“It’s still pretty neat,” Cat admired his reflection.

“It is,” Lister agreed cheerfully, “You look positively radiant.”

                He wasn’t teasing either. Cat did look fantastic. Why had he always just assumed that guys couldn’t wear dresses? There was so much variation, so many different styles, no wonder women spent so long choosing what to wear. It was much more fun than throwing on a boring old pair of trousers and a shirt. Inspired, he scanned the room and scooped up a slinky silk column dress. “Hey, hey! Look at this! I’m going to try on this one!”

“You can’t wear that!”

“Why not?” Lister protested, “How come you can wear dresses but I can’t?”

“You can wear a dress if you want, buddy, but there’s no way in hell you can pull off _that_ dress.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A sheath? With your figure?”

“What’s wrong with me figure?”

“If I have to answer that we’ll be here until flares come back in style.”

“So what are you saying? I’m fat? I’ve got a big bum? It’s my bum, isn’t it?” Lister craned back unsteadily over his own shoulder, a comment about badly parked volkswagons echoing in his memory. “The problem’s not your ass,” Cat told him, “It’s your hips. I mean, don’t get me wrong, your ass is light years away from this piece of perfection,” Cat pointed his own derriere in Lister’s direction, “But that dress won’t sit right on you anyway. You’re not tall enough. You need something like…” Cat’s eyes darted keenly around the selection and he pounced on something, “…this!”

“Really?” Lister looked doubtfully at the elegant cream lace confection Cat thrust into his arms.

“Trust me, Bud. Look how this skirt is cut. It drapes at the front but it’s fitted in the back. It’ll skim your hips and make that bubble butt of yours look bangin’.”

Lister absorbed this for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” He disappeared into the changing room.

 

Rimmer wandered down through the shopping centre, the sound of his boots echoing in the cavernous silence. They could be just about anywhere and this place was huge. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a discarded lager can and he went over to check it out. There was still a dribble of alcohol trickling out. It was fresh. They weren’t far away. Just then, he heard muted laughter in the near distance. Yep, they were definitely close. Rimmer followed the sound, wondering darkly what his shipmates were finding so entertaining.

 

“You’re right!” Lister exclaimed happily, examining his reflection in front of the banks of mirrors, “My arse DOES look bangin’.”

“What did I tell you?” Cat remarked proudly, “It’s all about finding the right cut.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lister conceded, fiddling with a scratchy lace cap sleeve, “But I’m not sure it’s really _me_.”

“I’m listening.”

“I mean, it’s glamorous, but I’m thinking of something a little more…romantic.”

“I get it. You’re thinking more traditional.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I hear you, Bud. How about this little number?”

 

                When Rimmer ventured into the shop just a few minutes later, he was met with a peculiar vision. Lister was sitting draped across a couch in one corner in a pearly white satin off-the-shoulder ballgown. His black leather boots were sticking out the bottom under layers of lacy tulle and he was supping at a lager. “Hey, man,” he greeted Rimmer with a dazzling smile.

“Lister? What on IO are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for Cat. He’s still trying stuff on.”

“Is that a wedding dress???”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lister stroked a hand across the smooth full skirt, “I feel so pretty. I’ve never felt pretty before.” He stood up and gave Rimmer an unsteady twirl.

“Exactly how drunk are you right now?”

“I don’t have to be drunk to feel pretty!” Lister replied hotly, “I am an enlightened 23rd century guy and I can wear a dresh if I want.”

“Dresh? Oh my god, you’re steaming. How did you even end up in here? There’s hundreds of clothes shops in this place, what made you choose a wedding dress shop?”

Lister’s bottom lip wobbled, “Well, it’s not like I’m ever going to get a proper chance to wear one _now_ , is it?”

“What?” Rimmer squeezed his head between his hands, “Lister, you never would have got a chance to wear one anyway!”

“Why not? Are you saying no-one would want to marry me?”

“No! I’m just pointing out that…”

“You know, just because you’re a tosser who thinks I have a big bum, doesn’t mean nobody else will love me!”

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you are being right now?” Rimmer told him.

“Up yours! I look _fabulous_ and you can smeg right off if you think otherwise!”

“Hey guys!” Cat swept out of the dressing room in an outrageous flamenco-skirted ruffled creation with feathers and crystals, “Check this out!” Rimmer stared at him, then put his face in his hands. “Oh my god. You’re not even drunk, are you?”

“Why would I be drunk?” Cat asked puzzled. Lister glared tearfully at Rimmer.

“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” he demanded; then swept up his skirts, flipped his locks over one bare shoulder, turned on his heel and stormed off back to the dressing room. Rimmer watched him go, bewildered. “Space crazy,” he said weakly, “You’ve both gone space crazy.”

“Hey,” Cat tapped his shoulder, “What do you think? Tiara or no tiara?”

 

 


End file.
